


baby that's a diamond

by poisonrationalitie



Category: 19 Kids and Counting RPF, Counting On (TV) RPF
Genre: Abusive Relationships, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Low Self-Esteem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:22:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27414187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonrationalitie/pseuds/poisonrationalitie
Summary: Jinger loves her husband. Jeremy loves being a husband.
Relationships: Jinger Duggar/Jeremy Vuolo
Kudos: 4





	baby that's a diamond

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a little embarrassed to admit this is inspired by a tiktok sound - 'violent' by carolesdaughter. some of the lyrics are used as dialogue.

“Jinger,” he says, and the disgust drips off every syllable. It oozes from him, like mustard-yellow pus from a large red pimple. Her cheeks are wet with tears and eyes ringed with burning fire and flame.

“I can’t,” she says, shaking her head. Perfectly styled platinum curls crunch against her shoulders. “Please. I’m begging you. Please. _Please,_ Jeremy. I can’t – I can’t. I just can’t.”

“Don’t be simple,” Jeremy sneers. “Are you not even capable of basic chores? _Felicity_ could do that.” He spits out his eldest daughter’s name like it’s made of ash and poison. She takes a step back, her heel clicks on the tiled floor. He grabs her arm, right at the elbow, and grips firmly. His fingers close around her limb like she’s no bigger than a doll. She’s watched all the footage of his soccer games available. She knows just how strong he is. That was part of the attraction; he could be tall and big and strong and protect her from anything that came in their way.

It meant nobody could protect her from him. Nobody but God, who doesn’t answer her prayers anymore in L.A than he had in Tonitown.

“Don’t make me get violent,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. She looks up at him, chin tilted as high as it goes, her heavy hair screaming for her skull to return the ground. His other hand is on her waist, pulling her close. The first time he did that, her whole world had fallen away – the house she was born in and the house she had her own bed in and every trip she’d ever taken and every shop she’d ever shopped in had seared and burned and crumbled to the lowest tier of unimportance when he touched her.

“I want my ring back,” she says quietly, dropping her eyes. He laughs, jovial, the sort of laugh she’d know even after the rapture, even in the darkest pits of Hell. He strokes her hair.

“Baby, that’s a diamond,” he reminds her, chiding. A diamond, yes. The sort of thing she had only dreamed of receiving, the sort of thing she would and has sinned for, the sort of thing her parents had assured her was the living proof of greed until they had invited the cameras over and it had become a necessity. But regardless of its necessity, it’s something she can scarcely be trusted with. She doesn’t know how often to clean it, or how to best complement it with her other jewellery, or how to dress or do her hair or put on make-up. When she does it herself, she’s a racoon, a prude, a prairie doll, a stupid teenager, a stupid girl who never grew up and only ever caused others to stray.

She thinks perhaps it is her special talent; making others angry with her, leading others away from God, as if Satan himself lived in her. She has tempted Josh, annoyed Jessa, forgotten Jedidiah, poorly-raised Johannah, and now she is too stupid and quiet for Jeremy, though he told her early on in their time together that he didn’t mind, that was his cross to bear in their relationship. She has not done her duty in trying to lighten his burden. No wonder he’s succumbed, no wonder he’s been so easily led away, when she puts no effort into keeping him at home. 

He opens his mouth to speak, and she looks to him, eyes wide, saucer-like, focused on the man whom her world has revolved around since her father gave her away. Besides God, of course. He sighs, loudly, and it reverberates through his body into hers. He shakes his head. She knows that look, knows it better than God or her sisters or herself or her name.

_Disappointment._

“You don’t listen anyways,” he says, running his fingers through his thinning hair, and looks to the sky, to God. She tries to listen, really, she does, she does everything she can, she’s _trying._

“I’ll be quiet,” she promises, and her voice breaks, like she’s begging. She is. _Please, Jeremy. Please, please, please._ He looks down at her, wrinkles his nose, like she stinks of desperation and Arkansas and tiny bedrooms and crowded churches and red marks across the back of her calves and her palms and diapers and breast milk and vomit and day-old tater tots. She stinks, stinks of her childhood and he stands tall in his tailored suit, holding her with the hands that stopped goals and typed out college applications and held beers, shrouded in cologne. _No wonder he’s tempted,_ she thinks. _He could have his choice of anyone._ He pinches the bridge of his nose, and glances back at the kitchen, where steam rises from the pasta on the stove.

“I don’t really feel like fighting,” he says, and pushes her back to her jurisdiction. She thanks God for his mercy.

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